


Cardiology: A study on the hearts of those who fall in love

by flowercage



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Drama Student Louis, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Harry wants to give Louis the world, Multi, Photographer Harry, Slow Burn, harry is so in love with louis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-24
Updated: 2018-01-24
Packaged: 2019-03-09 00:43:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13470087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowercage/pseuds/flowercage
Summary: "There is a dull shine coming from the outside world but the purple fairy lights that adorn his bed frame are the essential source of light that softly glows in the semi-darkness of his bedroom. Lying down, facing up, mindlessly pulling and playing with his many rings, he thinks still of that boy. That beautiful boy, whom he had seen for the first and only time about six hours ago. He who had unknowingly stilled his heart for a moment would no doubt be the recurring theme of his day and night dreams."





	Cardiology: A study on the hearts of those who fall in love

Have you ever felt your heart skip a beat? Have you ever felt it stop - _actually_ stop? For a fraction of a second, you feel a light punch against the inside of your sternum. Your blood flows the tiniest bit slower, causing a slight chill to course through your veins instead. For a fraction of a second, you were dead - completely, indisputably void of life. When the very core of the human being starts throbbing again, it does so much faster, as if it was compensating the system for a glitch. When the blood resumes its natural course, pumping life back to your body, the flesh warms up. The sudden change in temperature is what causes the subsequent shiver.

But what exactly makes the heart come to an unexpected halt? What force could be responsible for sucking your life right off you so suddenly, only to give it back just as quickly? The frightening feeling of missing the last step on the stairs? The sensation of having experienced a near-death situation? Apart from the occasional fright, there are only two other forces which will make your heart stop: your very last breath and the sight of the love of your life.

Distinct situations, different terms, opposite reactions, unequal consequences. Let us take a moment to quickly assess each case hither cited.

When you feel scared, your heart does stop. Before your brain can make sense of the situation, your heart - the most instinctual organ in your body - takes a moment to change gears and then comes back with full force. That would be "survival instinct" in its purest form. When logic is back in the picture, relief takes over to soothe the distressed muscle.

When you take your very last breath, your heart stops beating and that is it. At that moment, your soul decides it is time to leave your body and so it does. From that moment on, there is no point in pumping blood and providing oxygen, so the heart stops and that is it. Everything happens about the same time: the heart does not throb anymore, the soul says its last goodbye, and the body becomes inanimate.

For the third and last case, which is also the main focus of this brief study, I invite you into the following story, and so witness, one of the countless cases in which love finds its way into someone's heart. Let us take a closer look and further analyse what goes on in the hearts of those who fall in love.

-

At that moment, he was vaguely aware of his mates’ voices. He was vaguely aware his heart had stopped beating. He was definitely not aware of what was happening to him. He watched the boy - that beautiful, _beautiful_ boy - as he smiled at the book he held and only then his heart eagerly came back to life. His body convulsed involuntarily in response. His throat had tightened at the incident, had held in a gulp of air. Through his parted lips, he let the air free at last. As life returned to him, he felt his eyes hurt from being open too long and blinked once - just once, so as not to deprive his soul of the holy sight. As he slowly came back to his senses, taking in his surroundings, he was able to properly assimilate the wonderful creature upon which his gaze had landed.

On the other side of the cafeteria, at a table in the opposite corner of the room, sat a boy. Engulfed by a purple jumper, seemingly immersed in whatever book he held in his hands, there he sat - by himself and with his back to the farthest wall. _Oh, do I wish I were the author of those words. What would I pay to hold that beautiful boy’s attention like that. If only I were the reason for that beautiful boy to smile._ From a significant distance, from between the heads of so many students, he could barely even see what the table did not cover. A limited glimpse of that boy, however, was more than enough to stop his body from functioning as it should.

“Harry!” And a punch to the shoulder was what pulled him from the headspace he had been in for a lengthy amount of time.

“I’m in love,” was what came out of him breathlessly. He had barely registered the pain in his arm, for everything else he felt overpowered any and all of his senses. In fact, he had yet to look away from that beautiful, _beautiful_ boy.

“What?” Niall chuckled, looking confusedly at Josh, who portrayed a similar expression. 

Harry swallowed and repeated himself, albeit this time more confidently, “I’m in love,” he said, never taking his eyes off the still nameless, still beautiful boy.

“What are you on about?” Josh said, shaking his head and squinting his eyes. He turned around and tried to follow his friend’s line of sight. When it dawned on him, he turned back smirking. “Oh, I see.”

“See what?” Niall asked, still in search of whoever had made a fool out of Harry. “I don’t get it,” he frowned.

“That one,” Josh told him pointedly as he took his chin in hand and guided his head in the right direction.

“Oh,” Niall said as realization softened his features before frowning again, “I don’t know him. Do you know him?” He looked back from Harry to Josh, who simply shrugged and shook his head. Harry was still frozen in place, dazedly staring at that boy. “Why don’t I know him?” Niall continued indignantly, “ _How_ don’t I know him?”

“I want to know him,” Harry said stupidly.

“I know everyone!” Niall exclaimed, ignoring his friend. He did indeed know everyone, somehow. At first, when they were just becoming acquaintances, Harry had been both amazed and confused at how was possible for Niall to know so many people. They had started university at the same time, but shortly after the first week of classes, Niall greeted people wherever they went. After a while, Harry got used to it and did not even bother introducing him to people he met - chances were Niall knew them already.

“Mate,” Josh reprimanded, “clearly we have more serious matters right now,” he said, nodding towards Harry, whose gaze was still fixed where it had been this entire time.

“Oh, yeah,” Niall said, “that's right.” He turned back to Harry and nudged him, “H, you fancy him?”

“I have never seen anything as gorgeous and I feel like my eyes have never had a greater fortune,” he uttered with a bit of pain etching his words. “Niall,” he turned to his friend at last, “I have to talk to him,” he said desperately, “I fucking _need_ it.”

“Then move, Romeo!” Niall nudged him again, a bit more forcefully. “Make sure to wipe the drool off your face first,” he added playfully.

Harry nodded quickly a couple of times, not even taking time to be offended at the mockery. Placing his wide open palms on the table and sitting up straight, he took a deep breath. He looked at the holy sight of that boy again. _I can’t believe he’s real. I can’t believe nature graced the world with such a wonderful being. And I can’t believe I get to witness it._

 _“_ I want to thank his mother for bringing him to the world,” he muttered under his breath.

“Yeah, yeah,” Niall said as he pushed him from his seat. “You can tell her that after your third date with her son.”

“Okay,” Harry said, again a bit stupidly, to reassure himself. As soon as his bottom left his seat, another guy - a bulky, undoubtedly _handsome_ guy - came up to the beautiful boy and kissed his cheek, sitting down next to him afterwards. It was not solely gravity that pulled Harry back down to the chair. _Oh, no._

“No,” he said pleadingly, “God, please no.” _Why would the universe do this to me?_ If earlier his heart had been brought back to life by that gorgeous boy, it was now completely ripped off his chest. He buried his face in his hands and rested his elbows on the table.

“Oh, mate,” Josh said sorrowfully, “that’s really unfortunate.”

“ _Unfortunate_?” Harry lifted his head to look at his friend, “my whole world just collapsed before me, that’s more like it.” He went back to his previous position and sighed painfully.

Josh merely rolled his eyes and shook his head at his friend’s unusual, dramatic behaviour.

“Wait a sec,” Niall announced suddenly, “I know _that_ guy!”

Harry perked his head up so quickly he felt a bit dizzy. “What?!” He exclaimed, looking at Niall. “Tell me that is not his boyfriend. _Please_ , tell me that guy has some typical, straight college love affair with a cheerleader or somewhat.” He gripped Niall’s shoulders desperately.

“I don’t know!” Niall replied as he untangled Harry’s long fingers from his arms. “All I know is that his name’s Liam and he studies Law.” They all looked back at that table in the corner as Niall carried on with his report. “He’s just started his last year. I’m surprised it took me so long to meet him, actually. James from Architecture introduced us a week ago, on the first day of the semester.”

“Well, we have a head start then.” Josh reasoned, poking Harry’s arm to get his attention, “Now that we know Niall knows that guy, I mean. We can all very casually go there, Niall can _casually_ bring something up to talk to that Liam dude and you can chat up the cute one.”

“No,” Harry said, shaking his head, “that’s a terrible idea. What if that guy is his boyfriend? Also, I want to have a chance to talk to him by myself. I can’t handle the pressure of all of you there… listening.” Josh shrugged and Niall simply nodded his agreement before Harry proceeded.

“But you’re right - we do have a head start. Niall,” he turned to his friend and looked him right in the eyes, talking surely but slowly as if they were plotting an intricate master plan, ”you have to find out if that Liam guy is his boyfriend.” He paused and licked his lips, looking at Niall with crazy, desperate eyes. _God, please let him be single._ “Find out whether he’s got a boyfriend or girlfriend at all, his name - anything you can.”

“Haz,” Niall said and gave him a bored look, “Why go through all that? Honestly, just forget about it.”

“I can’t,” Harry muttered and turned to admire the beautiful boy in the far corner of the cafeteria. How could he ever get over his beautiful face, his captivating smile? How could he ever get those sharp cheekbones out of his mind? How could he ever _not_ have his fingers twitch at the thought of his fluffy, chocolate-coloured fringe? How could he ever keep his lips from drying at the thought of touching such tanned, smooth skin? How could he ever _not_ think about that beautiful boy’s perfectly designed lips? How does one forget the sacred sight of an angel? 

“I really, really can’t.”

“Alright,” Niall said softly after a moment. “It’s not even that much of a trouble, to be honest.”

Harry muttered a "thanks" and went back to just looking at the beautiful, _beautiful_ boy. He watched as he lifted one of his dainty - _little, precious_ \- hands to swipe his hair to the side and laughed at something the other guy - _Liam_ \- had told him. _If it were up to me, I’d make him smile every single day of his life for as long as I lived._

He doesn’t know, nor does it ever cross his mind, how much time passes until the beautiful boy and his companion start gathering their things to, most likely, leave the cafeteria. Both Josh and Niall had long given up on trying to engage him in any conversation. He was, by his turn, perfectly content with being left to admire the beauty he had somehow been gifted with; such beauty he was somehow lucky enough to watch live and just _be_.

When the beautiful boy and _Liam_ , apparently, started to move, he was brought back from his own mind for probably the third or fourth time that day. He felt movement as Niall and Josh gathered their own things as well and looked away to grab his backpack. When the three of them were up and by the bins to dispose of their leftovers, he looked back again in search of the beautiful boy. He scanned the room until his gaze landed upon the exit, where he saw the bulky, handsome guy wheeling the cute one out into the wide campus.

-

Later that evening, he lays down on his soft mattress as some soft pop music plays quietly, setting a melancholic atmosphere to match his mood. The sun is about to set, a chilly breeze of autumn comes out of a cloud every other minute and pushes the white, see-through curtains inside gently, giving the impression that his room is breathing. To live in this kind of environment is what he needs most now. He swims deep inside his own imagination, feeling as light as a feather - in fact, in his mind, he barely registers the idea of possessing a physical form. 

There is a dull shine coming from the outside world but the purple fairy lights that adorn his bed frame are the essential source of light that softly glows in the semi-darkness of his bedroom. Lying down, facing up, mindlessly pulling and playing with his many rings, he thinks still of that boy. That beautiful boy, whom he had seen for the first and only time about six hours ago; he who had unknowingly stilled his heart for a moment would no doubt be the recurring theme of his day and night dreams.

" _Oh_ ," he recalls what Niall said just as they left the cafeteria earlier in the day, " _he's... Is that like...a problem to you?_ " He had said hesitantly, ready to either love or fight him.

" _No!_ " He had half-shouted back at Niall, a bit offended. “ _It's not._ "

" _Oh, thank God,_ ” Niall had let out a relieved sigh at that point. " _You never know. I’d be honestly disappointed in you. After having practically cried over him and whatnot,_ ” Niall had rolled his eyes.

" _Thank you, Ni,_ " Harry had said as he smiled gratefully at his friend. " _Good to know I can count on you to keep me right._ "

“ _Sure thing, H._ "

He sighs again and rolls over, hugs his pillow and shuts his green eyes so he can see the beautiful boy again. _I am never again going to be able to appreciate any other kind of beauty_. He breathes in the smell of lavender softener on his bedding and wonders whether it resembles the beautiful boy’s scent.

" _Nothing's changed,_ " he had told Niall, " _I mean, I'm surprised. I definitely didn't see that coming but I still think he's the most gorgeous creature to have ever existed._ "

Because he needs to live his life instead of moping around in his bedroom all night thinking of fit boys, Harry stands and heads towards the kitchen with dinner on his mind. As he chops and grills and boils, he tries to keep his mind from wandering away from the task at hand.

It does not seem to be working, he realises, when he misses the sound of the front door as it is opened and then closed, as well as his roommate talking to him. He takes notice of how zoned out he was when Niall flicks his man bun, startling him and successfully drawing his attention from the stove.

"I said," Niall announced pointedly, "I talked to Liam today after class."

" _What?_ " Harry asked, stunned. He turned the stove off and followed his friend into his bedroom. "So?" He said as he leaned against the door frame.

Niall sat on his bed and slowly untied his shoes. He seemed reluctant to share the new-found information. "He didn't tell me much, H,” he said apologetically, "just that the little lad's name's Louis and that they live together somewhere close to Uni.”

"Oh," Harry said, slumping his shoulders, unable to hide his sadness. "So they're together,” he swallowed tightly. “It’s cool. I’m cool,” he nodded his head solemnly.

"I wouldn't be so sure,” Niall said, smirking. At that Harry's head snapped up and his eyes bulged out. Niall chuckled and continued, ”yeah, I saw him - Liam - get out of that hipster shop you like with the guy who works there. Hand in hand.”

"Zayn?" Harry let out a relieved sigh, not one bit ashamed. "Oh, I'm so glad,” he laughed. "Why didn't you ask him anything else though? Like his major or how old he is." He granted himself permission to sit down next to Niall and faced him.

Niall scratched his chin and scrunched his face before answering, "He seemed very wary, to be honest. We were just catching up and he's actually super friendly, ye know.”

"But...?" Harry caught on his friend's hesitation.

"But as soon as I asked about "the guy who was with him today at lunch”, he became defensive,” he paused and looked at the door pensively, "he's probably very protective of Louis."

The left corner of Harry's mouth curled up a bit at that. _Typical Communication student assessing people's behaviour._ "Did he say anything else?"

"Not really. But he did give me the impression that he'd gladly stand on your way to Louis' heart,” Niall concluded cheerfully, patting Harry’s thigh.

"Well," Harry said and shrugged, "the only one who can stop me is Louis himself." He got up and ushered Niall into the kitchen.

“Okay,” Niall countered, “but you have to actually meet him before being rejected. So good luck with that.” 

They both filled their plates and settled on the small table in the center of their small kitchen.

“Never seen him on campus,” Niall continued as he took a bite off a broccoli, “Never seen him anywhere but at the cafeteria that one time, really.”

“Well, I have a feeling we’ll just find each other eventually,” Harry countered happily. He was far too pleased to know that his beautiful boy, Louis _,_ was available to allow anything ruin his good mood.

“You’re bonkers, mate,” Niall said and pulled his phone from his pocket, scrolling and typing away. “And you have to stop watching Disney films, or Titanic,” he added and rolled his eyes.

“Excuse me, Niall.” Harry looked affronted as he lowered his fork. "I’ll have you know I believe my story with Louis will actually be a lot more like _Love Actually_.” And after Niall’s pointedly bored look, he muttered, “Also, if I watch one more conceptual film with "incredible cinematography’" and no plot I’ll go crazy for sure,” Harry said, making reference to his classes. 

After two years studying Photography, he thought he would finally be free of mute, black and white motion pictures from the German Expressionism. He was wrong, he discovered, when earlier that week on his first Cinematography Narrative II class, Ms. Bishop decided to murder her students with a session of _Nosferatu_. Harry would not have almost shed tears of despair if he had not watched it at least seventeen times through the course and done a project on it.

“Found it!” Niall shouted, bringing an end to Harry's misery. “Here,” he said, and threw his phone at his startled friend.

Harry took the phone and choked on his food the instant he saw it. Coughing a few times and taking a large gulp of water, he was able to recompose himself. 

“You’re a genius,” he told Niall and looked up at him. “But how did you find him? Thought you didn’t know his last name?”

“Yeah, but I’m friends with Liam on Facebook,” Niall’s voice came a bit muffled from the mouthful of pasta he had, “I just searched for a Louis amongst his friends and recognized him by the profile picture.” He swallowed and continued, pointing at Harry with his fork, “That’s Standard Stalking 101 for you."

Harry looked back at the device he held in his left hand. [And what a picture](http://justlickthedrumstick.tumblr.com/post/170082836406/harry-looked-back-at-the-device-he-held-in-his). His heart kicked up a notch and warmed his chest. From the beautiful boy’s current profile picture he was able to pick up two new information. _He is most likely, but not exclusively, interested in men._ At that, he smirked. Then he noticed the boy was standing - at least looked like it. _So he wasn’t born like that._ And as an afterthought, he added to no one but himself, _Must’ve been pretty recent too._ Swiping the image away, he was met with Louis’ previous profile picture. That one made his heart melt, made his blood flood the thin vessels on his cheeks. He moistened his lips with a stroke of his tongue and pressed them together in a tight line, attempting to hold back a smile. The second photo gave him two relevant, brand new facts about the beautiful boy: _he wears glasses and beanies - or well, perhaps used to. God, help me._ At the third one he chuckled, the fourth one surprised him. _How have I let this pass right by me?_ He quickly swiped back through the pictures and then returned to the one he had been, for lack of better wording, appreciating. _He has blue eyes._  

Louis did indeed have blue eyes. Usually, his irises would showcase a light tone of blue circled by a thin line of darker shade. During the coldest seasons - when the sky is forever grey with heavy clouds, when the sun shines above those clouds as it emits a bright white light - is when his eyes become a pale shade of blue. As expected, the warmer the weather gets, the warmer his eyes look. In summer, when there are no clouds preventing the sun and from shining bright and big and yellow, his eyes turn a turquoise shade of blue, much like the colour of a standard pool or the Caribbean sea. All of that, though, Harry had yet to learn.

Now unable to contain his smile, having forgotten all about his dinner, Harry swiped to the fifth and, unfortunately for him, the last picture available. If asked to describe that last picture, Harry would surely say something along the lines of: _is just Louis, doing the world a favour by being his gorgeous self on a couch._

As he left Louis' photos, he frowned. There was nothing more to learn about him apart from supposing he was a fan of online privacy. No job, no academic life, no friends, no relationship status, no publications. Nothing was available for outsiders to see.

"He makes everything private," he said mournfully. "That only makes me more curious. He's like a mystery or something."

"Bummer," Niall muttered and got up to retrieve their empty dishes to the sink. "Add him."

"What? No," replied Harry weakly, "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not? Don't you want to know more about him?"

"Well, yeah..." Harry said pensively. "But he doesn't know me and I don't know anyone he knows… 'Tis a bit weird.”

"Come on, H. Just do it." Niall insisted, "Everyone does that."

Harry locked Niall's phone and handed it back to him. After seemingly having thought about it, he added, "I don't want this to be just like everything else, though,” he smiled sheepishly before continuing. "Call me a hopeless romantic, but I want to get to know him properly.”

-

It is hard for those who love, or rather, those who have just fallen in love, to not love. Quite obvious that, you might think. Well, that first statement is the kind of confusing or perhaps peculiar opening I am so stupidly trying to compose. The typical odd first sentence used in literature to grasp and hold the reader’s attention. So, did I manage? I would definitely not be surprised if not. I am a scientist, a medical persona, a cardiologist and an overall cynical - as opposed to romantic - trying to dissect and comprehend the most subjective organ in the human body. That considered I beg you to please bear with me in my poor attempt at discoursing this medical, yet subjective text.

As I was saying, when you fall in love, it is truly difficult to not love. And what by that I tried to convey is that once you are infatuated with somebody, it will certainly be hard to feel and think about anything else. Similar to when you have been beyond starved for hours, in your body there is room for only one feeling and in your mind, only one thought. Harry could have been found in that agonizing state of being during the three days that had followed the sighting of his beautiful boy.

Now that his heart had found solace in the presence of that boy, it craved him deeply. Harry had been suffering from intense chest pains and an uncontrollable agony that dominated his mind. Like an alcoholic in the absence of liquor, Harry had been feeling the telltale symptoms of undesired abstinence. Once his heart had had a sweet taste of love, it could not help but ache for more. And ache it did. The sweet, foreign taste of what love could be left a bitter, burning aftertaste - equivalent to what comes after achieving the highest point of euphoria any synthetic drug can provide. Harry’s heart clenched in its search for more; clenched tighter and tighter, until the suffering became too much to bear. Each painful contraction took away a bit of air from his lungs, once again jeopardizing his system.

It was now late morning, four days after the incident, and he had just walked off one of his classes. Heading towards the Art’s building, he crossed the campus with no rush at all. Autumn had already touched the trees some time ago; had already blown its cool air into the open space. He appreciated its effort - autumn’s effort - to create that perfect morning. Birds chirped, the sun was warm and inviting, the entire campus glowed in a golden light, and light was the breeze, strong enough to only slightly ruffle his brown curls. It was a typically perfect morning in autumn.

He took a break from his strolling to close his eyes and tilt his head towards the warmth of the sun. He felt the wind kiss his face and wondered if he could be carried away by it, for he felt as light as a dry leaf in autumn. There weren’t many passers-by in that particular area of the campus at that particular time. His earphones played the moment’s [soundtrack](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XRqrpfzpTaA) and the agony he was by now so used to had decided to take a break. Right then, he felt nothing but pure, unadulterated bliss. His mind was as clear as that morning sky. His mouth morphed itself into a small smile - an unplanned, automatic smile - and he resumed his walking. He was supposed to meet Niall outside his class so they could have lunch together before moving on to their respective afternoon lectures.

He goes through the entrance doors, through the main hall and takes a left. He leisurely walks his way through the building he knows so well when his pace slowly comes to a halt. From outside the door of one of the music classrooms, he hears [the sounds of a piano](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H2-1u8xvk54), as he often does when he crosses the halls of that building.

At first, only a few notes are played and Harry thinks that will be all, but the song goes on after a small pause and his body reacts to it almost instantly. The light shivers that run through his skin tickle as well his heart, which in turn is filled with passion. When the main melody is repeated, without thinking much of it, he looks inside through the small glass window on the door. From the left corner to the right, he sees respectively a drum set, chairs, and then the piano. There is a grand piano in the middle of the room, a majestic instrument of dark wood and golden details. And by the piano sits the pianist, with his back to the entrance.

“Louis,” Harry whispered to no one in particular, once again breathless from the mere limited sight of that boy. Without looking away, his mouth hung open, he reached for the doorknob and turned it carefully. Like a child trying to sneak their way into the kitchen in the middle of the night, Harry pushed the door open only slightly - and still very carefully - as he tested its 'creaking qualities’. He held his breath and took a tentative step into the room. The boy was still playing that same song, which was nearing its end as Harry shut the door behind him. It was as Louis played the last notes that Harry’s subtlety was abruptly thrown out the window. On his third step, he hit the leg of a chair instead of the floor, resulting in that same chair flying over to one side (and toppling a few other chairs) and his body to the other.

“Ow!” He exclaimed as his head hit the floor.

Louis let out a short yet loud yelp at the commotion that interrupted his performance, made him hit the wrong keys on the piano. He clutched his chest and wheeled away from the instrument, gasping and trying to calm himself down.

“Fucking hell,” he said as he took notice of the lanky lad sprawled on the floor, clutching his own head.

Harry was holding back tears, not due to the throbbing pain on his skull or the utter embarrassment, but at the soothing, high-pitched voice that he listened to for the first time.

“Hi,” he said as he sat up, “I'm sorry for creeping on you like that.” Harry chuckled and Louis said nothing, just kept looking at him with a neutral, maybe a bit scared, expression on his face. Harry, therefore, cleared his throat and continued,

“It's just that,” he paused and licked his lips. His heart was pounding uncontrollably inside him and he was trying hard not to let his excitement show. He could tell though, by the manner with which Louis regarded him warily, that his eagerness was evident. He cleared his tightened throat once more in an attempt to hold back his emotions and tried again slowly, “It’s just that I heard music from the hall and it was so beautiful that I had to come here and tell you so.”

Louis looked down at his lap, breaking eye contact and muttering a quiet "thank you". It was barely a whisper, but Harry was able to catch it as well as the blush that had painted his cheeks. Now that the instant shock had passed, Louis seemed to shy away from him. He was avoiding looking at Harry, biting his bottom lip and fiddling with the end of his white-knit jumper. Harry seized the opportunity to properly contemplate him. For the first time, he had a privileged view of Louis.

He noticed first his fluffy hair. The rays of sunshine that seeped through the windows doted him with golden highlights and his fringe shadowed the right side of his face. It was difficult to tell from that angle, but Harry imagined his eyes looked soft and turquoise. His sharp cheekbones were blushed pink and his delicate little nose descended in a perfect line along his face until reaching his perfectly designed - more so than he had first thought - and even pinker lips.

Harry ran his gaze up Louis’ jaw and his own lips twitched at the thought of caressing the sharp line and soft skin with them. In contrast to the white turtleneck of his jumper, the skin of his neck looked much tanner. He stayed there looking at Louis, taking in his tenderness and imagining how would it feel to gather him in his arms and breathe him in. _Will I ever be so lucky as to feel his heat on my lips? On my fingertips?_

This time he welcomed the agony that returned to take residence in his heart. He planted his feet flat on the floor and rested his arms on his propped up knees. 

“I'm Harry, by the way.”

Louis looked up at that and Harry was extremely content to look at his beautiful eyes. 

“I’m Louis,” the beautiful, _beautiful_ boy uttered softly - much like everything he does. Still wary and reserved, Louis spoke only when necessary; only _what_ was necessary.

“Yeah,” Harry smiled fondly at him, “so I was told.” And when Louis raised an eyebrow at him, he clarified, “Uhm, I saw you in the cafeteria the other day with Liam and a friend of mine asked him your name afterwards,” he said, gesticulating accordingly.

“Why?” Louis tilted his head to the side like a curious puppy would and squinted his eyes. Harry’s heart clenched for that boy yet again as he tried to control his rapidly developing feelings.

“Because I asked him to,” Harry retaliated, smirking.

Louis slowly tilted his head back to an upright position and slurred quietly, “And why is that?”

It was Harry’s turn to blush. His lips were tugged up on one side, showcasing his left dimple. He held Louis’ gaze for a few moments longer before chuckling. He dropped his head forth and hid behind his long hair, through which he then ran his fingers and threw it back and to the side in a messy sort of quiff.

“You just caught my interest, I guess,” Harry muttered, cheeks still hot and smirk still present as he made eye contact with the beautiful boy again.

His precious time with that precious creature was running out: it was nearly time to meet Niall and there was not much time left until their staring contest would inevitably turn awkward. He had to think fast; well and fast. His poor heart, in a futile attempt to be of help, started beating quicker as to provide more blood to his brain on such short notice. _Do I ask for his number? His Snapchat? His hand in marriage? God, I’m useless._ And then, _Invite him to lunch and play it cool, you dumb fuck._ He smiled at his own wit discretely whilst Louis looked out the window.

He scooted a bit closer to Louis, making the younger lad turn his attention back to him. Having his unanimous attention like he once dreamt, regardless of being for just a few seconds, felt as if all his sins were being washed off his soul.

“Louis,” Harry said slowly and concealed his desperation fairly well, “Would you-“

Before he could word his invitation though, the door flung open and through it entered Liam. The smile that had clearly been there disappeared as soon as he saw Harry. He lifted both of his brows and scrutinized the mess of fallen chairs next to them.

“Ready for lunch, Lou?” He addressed Louis kindly. Then he side-eyed Harry with _clearly_ gritted teeth.

“Oh,” Louis said as if he had briefly forgotten about lunch, “Sure.”

Harry found himself once again consummately out of wit as Louis picked up his backpack from the floor and went up to Liam’s side. He quickly sprang to his feet and patted at his trousers awkwardly.

_Oh, great. Down the toilet goes my plan. Unless…_

“Hey,” Harry said as friendly as he could, upping his charm a notch and letting both of his dimples do their job, “I was about to invite Louis for lunch! How ‘bout you join us?”

“Sorry, mate.” Liam shrugged a shoulder dismissively and smiled tightly at him, “We've got other plans already. Maybe some other time.”

Louis smiled apologetically at him and waved a goodbye, which he returned disappointed. As Liam wheeled the boy out of the room, he took with him all of Harry’s hopes and dreams.

He watched as the door was shut and sighed. He dropped himself back to the ground and laid back. Not even waiting for Liam and Louis to be at safe distance, he yelled against his palms. Then he dropped his arms on the floor next to his torso and stayed there for a couple of minutes. _Can't believe I missed a chance like that._

The familiar chest cramps come back. He feels a hole instead of a heart inside. As he watched Louis leave, he knew luck had smiled his way for once. He understood, deep down, he could not ask the universe for another favour. As he lays on cold tiles, he feels his heart be filled with the venomous feeling of hopelessness. And yet, as sunk and dead the organ might feel, it still beats. It beats for the unlikely possibility. It beats for far-off chances, for the one percents, for the _what ifs_. That remaining glimmer of hope is what motivates the heart to keep going and once again clench and torture him in its pleas for more.

Taking a deep breath, he gathers all of his forces and starts picking up the fallen chairs. When the deed is done, he quickly grabs his backpack and jogs to Niall’s classroom. He finds him talking to Jasmine, one of his colleagues and greatest friends, outside in the hall. He walks faster and turns Niall towards him abruptly by his shoulder.

“I just met with Louis,” he says in a rush, completely out of breath but not because of running.

Niall and Jasmine, as well as some other students who took notice of the minor uproar, looked at him as if he was crazy. Then, as the words hit him, Niall raised his eyebrows in shock.

“You what?” He asked.

“I just met Louis,” Harry said between gasps. “In one of the music rooms. He was so gorgeous, he was playing the piano and I made a complete fool of myself." Then, he looked over at Jasmine, finally acknowledging her. "Oh, sorry Jas," he said, shaking his head, and leaned to kiss her on the cheek, "How are you?"

"I'm good, darling," she smiled sweetly at him. "I hear you're dying over a pretty boy?"

Harry chuckled and blushed a bit; ran his pointer finger and thumb around his lips, "Yeah, kind of," he nudged her and added playfully, "Aren't we all, though?"

"Not me, thanks," she said.

"You and Ren still going strong?”

"Always," she winked at him, "But enough of chit-chat already. I wanna hear all the good, fresh gossip."

"Oh, right," Harry said and licked his lips, but before he could say anything else, Niall interrupted him.

"Can we do this on our way to the dining hall, please? I'm bloody starving," he said in a thick Irish accent. Whenever he spent the break at home, he always came back with reinforced Irishness.

And so, Harry proceeded to fill them in on his eventful morning. When they were seated and eating, he concluded his story.

"So," he started as he chewed on his salad, "Long story short: I'm in love, he must think I'm a moron, and there's a huge, impenetrable brick wall named Liam keeping me from him." Harry pointed at Niall, who was already smirking, and said, "And don't you dare make a joke about Liam liking guys and "impenetrable"."

Niall laughed and choked on his lunch. Harry ignored him in favour of turning to Jasmine. “So, help me.”

Jasmine took a sip of her drink and frowned at nothing in particular. For maybe a minute or two she did not say anything, just stared at her burger. When she flicked her short, curly hair out of her face and looked at Harry again, she found him staring at her, waiting for a reply.

“Well,” she said, waving a hand dismissively, “it’s not that difficult. You guys are honestly really thick.” 

Niall was too busy stuffing his mouth with chips to complain but still managed to frown at her.

“Tell me what to do, please,” Harry said. “You can make fun of me afterwards.”

“Not like you need any help doing that,” she muttered under her breath, “Can’t believe you nearly broke the entire orchestra. I can see the bump in your head from here,” she pointed at the right side of his head.

Harry blushed furiously as Niall slammed his hand against the table and laughed hysterically, drawing attention to their table. He looked around them, checking if many students had been paying attention, then turned back to Jasmine.

“ _Jas!_ ” He whined at his friend, “Please, I’m begging you!” He said desperately.

“Alright, alright,” Jasmine chuckled. “Listen, all you gotta do is find out whatever you and Liam have in common and start from there. Gain his trust. Get him to like you, at least.”

“Liam?” Harry enquired, not quite following her line of thought.

“Yes,” she said, exasperated. “Didn’t you just say you can’t get through him?” Harry nodded and she continued, “If you can’t break his walls, try going 'round them.”

Harry leaned back in his chair, squinted his eyes, and pointed a finger at her, “You're good.”

“I do my best,” Jasmine shrugged and took another long sip of her drink.

-

Although this study is about the heart, specifically its physical reaction to love, I feel obligated to point out that there are many other forces acting on it. Some forces, such as thinking and illness, might compromise the will of the heart. Either due to physical inefficiency or simply influence, the heart indeed feels the effect of other factors.

Much like the heart, someone’s life is controlled by their emotions, their beliefs, their thinking, and the people around them. Furthermore, life itself is under greater forces. For instance: luck. What some call luck, others call God, or Gods, or simply the Universe. It is truly necessary that I deviate from my primary focus to make sense of this story, which by its turn is crucial to understand the primary focus of this study.

Sometimes, the Universe is on board with the heart’s wishes. Every now and again, the planets will align and every single second will run perfectly towards an effortless happy ending. If that day had been one of those days, Harry would have finished his classes, walked out of the building and headed towards his favorite clothing shop to check the new collection. He would have stopped at May’s Corner for the best cup of tea on campus just in time to avoid the rush of the “in-between-classes break”. He would have walked through the door of that quaint shop to greet Zayn and then realise the employee, his acquaintance, was the way to conquer Liam’s trust. He would have voiced his issues, Zayn would have gladly talked to Liam, and Harry would finally get a chance at winning his beautiful boy’s heart.

That day, though, was not one of those lucky days for Harry. Starting from the moment he tripped and banged his head on the floor in front of Louis, his luck followed only one direction: downhill.

That day, his professor decided to hold his students in for ten minutes longer than usual. That evening, as he got out of class and parted from his friends, rain started to pour. He was late to May’s Corner, so late that he had to wait outside the shop, under the rain, for about five minutes because the line was so long. He had barely squeezed himself out of the crowded coffee shop when he knocked his already bruised head on someone’s umbrella and then his arm - the one holding scalding tea - against the door that was opened abruptly. Feeling cold and frustrated, refusing to wait in the long line again, covered in rainwater and tea, Harry gave up on his plans for the evening and headed straight to his shared apartment.

Later on that same unlucky day, Harry found his only comfort in the fact that he had taken one step towards being closer to Louis.

**Author's Note:**

> ro·man·ti·cize  
> verb  
> deal with or describe in an idealized or unrealistic fashion; make (something) seem better or more appealing than it really is.
> 
> That being said, I will not romanticize Louis’ condition. I won’t make it look “cute”. It does make a difference to the story because people like that lead life a different way but acknowledging that is pretty much how far I’ll go.
> 
> HEADS UP: I'm an extremely slow writer so please harass me to get my lazy ass working. I'm dead serious: harass me in the comments section or send me asks on justlickthedrumstick.tumblr.com. This is a work in progress but I do have the whole story planned out.
> 
> Don't plagiarize. Comments and kudos are appreciated!


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